


Inner Child

by PostcardsfromTheoryland



Series: December Fic Prompts [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Everybody Lives, Fluff, Keith's Past, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Schmoop, holiday markets, reparent yourself kids it's a fun time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28237905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostcardsfromTheoryland/pseuds/PostcardsfromTheoryland
Summary: Keith does not need to buy himself a giant hippo plushie. They're at a peace summit. He has an image to uphold.But still - giant hippo plushie.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: December Fic Prompts [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037385
Comments: 16
Kudos: 112





	Inner Child

**Author's Note:**

> I had to take a break from this challenge and actually work on my dissertation a bit, but I'm hoping to at least crank out a couple more fics before the end of December.

“I shouldn’t…” Keith mumbles to himself. It might be the holidays by Earth time, and they might be taking a day off, but they were still here for a peace summit. Keith was supposed to be representing Voltron and the Blades and the Earth itself. He couldn’t be seen wandering around with a giant plush hippopotamus. Well, technically a giant plush sorson, which just happened to look for all the world like a hippo. Regardless. There are standards he has to uphold, no matter how much he wants to get it.

He finally forces himself away from the stall and toward some of the food vendors. It’s weird to think that only a few years after the war, a peace summit could spawn a galactic festival, but here they are. It’s built into the schedule even, giving everyone at least a couple days to wander the festival grounds during the half a phoeb that the summit covers. The peace festival is sort of a bizarre mix between a state fair and a luxury mall, complete with high-end fashion shops and suspiciously-engineered carnival rides. Last year he’d had to drag Pidge away from rigging the ferris wheel thing to spin at triple speed, and Hunk had accidentally started an impromptu cooking class in the center food court. Things seem quiet for now, but he ought to go make the rounds and check in on everyone.

“Hey, babe,” a voice says from behind him before Lance’s arm is slung across his shoulders. _Speaking of checking in…_. “You were hanging out over here for a while, I noticed. See anything you like?”

“Were you spying on me?” Keith asks, already knowing the answer. Apparently he is “hard to shop for,” since _There’s only so many times you can buy your partner a knife for Valentine’s Day, Keith_ , so Lance has taken to following him around whenever they’re at markets or malls or shopping centers to try to get ideas for birthday and holidays and taking notes on things he seems interested in. It’s gotten them quite a few odd looks from locals, but it’s helped improve Lance’s stealth and Keith is secretly amused by the whole thing, so he lets it slide.

“No,” Lance says, not even trying to be convincing. “Seriously though, I couldn’t decide if you were just lost in thought over here or if there was actually something you wanted.”

“It’s nothing,” Keith says, trying to steer them away from this section of the market. But Lance won’t budge.

“No, that means it is actually something! Okay, hold on, I’m going to figure it out.”

“Lance…”

“Just give me half a dobash, you know Minreve is coming up in a few movements and I still don’t have a gift for you. Why does it have to follow so closely after Christmas?”

“You know you don’t need to actually give me something for Minreve, right?” Keith asks. “It’s a Galra holiday, and one that barely anyone celebrates at this point to begin with.”

“You’re Galra,” Lance counters, “and besides, weren’t the Blades big into resurrecting some of the older traditions?”

“Resurrecting older traditions, yes. Resurrecting obscure holidays based on deities they stopped worshipping twelve thousand years ago, no.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” Lance says from where he’s still scanning the market stalls. “Can I have a hint?”

“No. You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t, though.” Lance is suddenly serious, arm tightening around Keith’s shoulders. “You’re allowed to like things, you’re allowed to have interests and hobbies and little guilty pleasures. You could tell me you want one of those giant stuffed hippos and I’d just get it for you.”

Silence.

“Wait…”

“Told you you’d laugh.”

“Hey, give me some credit,” Lance says as he elbows Keith in that spot right below Keith’s ribs that he knows is ticklish. “I’m not laughing at you, I think it’s cute. I just didn’t peg you for a hippo guy.”

“I had one, when I was little,” Keith admits. “My dad got it for me during a trip to the zoo. But it…the first group home I was in, some of the older kids…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, not wanting to think back on the image of two of the teenagers taking a pair of scissors to one of the last tangible links Keith had to his dad.

“Ok,” Lance says after a moment, shoving him back toward the market stalls. “I’m not going to get that giant hippo for you. You’re going to get the giant hippo for yourself.”

“What? No, Lance, I don’t need it, come on.”

“Sure, that’s true. People don’t _need_ a lot of things. I didn’t need that set of fancy lotions you gave me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”

“That’s different,” Keith argues, “that’s something actually useful. This is just…a hippo.”

“Yeah. It’s like, reparenting.”

“Have you been reading Shiro’s self-help books again?”

“Yes, and honestly you should, too,” Lance says flippantly. “Look, there was probably a lot of stuff you wanted during your childhood that you never got, right? Books and games and junk food and all kinds of stuff that you couldn’t have, because the foster system is shit. But you’re an adult now. You can get all that stuff that little kid you wanted. No one is stopping you.”

“I don’t know…”

“The fact that you stood here for a good ten dobashes thinking about it proves that I’m right. And it’s not as if you can’t afford it. We share bank accounts, I’ve seen what your savings looks like. Get yourself the damn hippo, Keith. Live your dreams. Make your inner child happy.”

“We have images to uphold though, Lance, I can’t just wander around the peace festival with a giant sorson.”

“Is that all that’s stopping you?” Lance scoffs, dragging him the rest of the way to the stall. “Hello, my good man, my partner here would like to buy one of those sorsen. Could we have it shipped to our room at the hotel? 6157?”

Oh. Keith hadn’t considered that option.

Keith picks out the one that’s a red-ish maroon color, because why not, he might as well keep going with the color coordination. Lance is smug throughout the rest of the transaction, knowing that it hadn’t even crossed Keith’s mind that he could get the hippo and discreetly have it sent to their room. He’s sure the rest of the Voltron team will know about the hippo in less than a varga, but he doesn’t mind too much about them. There will be teasing, certainly, but it will be gentle and good-natured. And there is a strange sort of relief in purchasing it. Maybe Lance is onto something with this whole ‘reparenting’ thing.

The rest of the day out at the festival is surprisingly relaxing. They watch Allura beat Kolivan in one of those high striker things, meet up with Matt and Olia and a few of the other former rebel fighters, and then have dinner with Shiro that mostly consists of as many fried foods as they can find.

And when they turn in for the night after watching the fireworks display, there’s not one, but seven of those giant hippo plushies waiting for them, in a rainbow assortment of colors. One from each member of the Voltron team.

Keith will never admit it, but his inner child is very happy about going to bed absolutely covered with stuffed hippos.


End file.
